


In Sickness and in Health

by LadyAriaa



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 15:28:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12534992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAriaa/pseuds/LadyAriaa
Summary: Quackerjack is sick. Not that he'll admit it.





	In Sickness and in Health

A rainy night in St. Canard: bleak, cold and miserable. There was very little Megavolt hated more than the rain. The smell was somewhat nice, but his sinuses were so messed up at that point he could barely enjoy it anymore. Or had they always been messed up? At least his makeshift residence was warm despite that pesky draft that whistled through the bayside window. The resident space heater took care of him very well in that regard. Megavolt made a mental note to thank him later, but it was quickly filed away among the many other bits of information doomed to be forgotten.

The lighthouse was dingy, slightly dilapidated and rather musky, but it was well lit as always, and Megavolt felt comfortable there even if there was that one leak in the roof that he was too paranoid to go anywhere near. The dripping of it mocked him constantly on days like this, but the melody of static that played in his head did pretty well to block it out. Still, he really should get that leak fixed someday. It was yet another forgotten memory, quickly reduced to a black haze in the back of his mind when the thought was replaced by a sharp rapping at his window.  

He lifted an eyebrow in confusion. Not that confusion was an unusual state for him, but this was definitely something curious. Lilith told him clearly that it was almost 11:30, and although she often disagreed with Henry and Hank, she was usually right about these things. Not that most people would take the word of an often ornery alarm clock over the sound advice of a rather level headed oven and his microwave sidekick, but Megavolt did believe it was that late. If the hours he had spent sitting on the couch and stewing were any indication, it was definitely that late, and that would mean only one someone would be anywhere near the lighthouse. Sure, there was only one person that ever was around generally, but he had made it very clear earlier that he was far too busy for his boyfriend tonight. Megavolt still wasn’t entirely sure what Quackerjack’s frustrated ramblings had meant exactly, but it was hardly unusual for him to be confused by the man. Chances were he had just been trying to end the conversation so he could pout as he usually did when they argued.

Megavolt scowled at the sound of Quackerjack’s voice in his ear, the recollection of that earlier phone call dislodged in that moment to replay in his head in a somewhat altered fashion from how it went down in reality. Not that he was aware of that little detail. Quackerjack had definitely been trying to get him to go on some silly heist; he was sure of that. Pretty sure. Maybe? Or it was just that thing about adopting a puppy? Either way, it ended with the man child irrationally mad at him. That he was sure of.

Tap, tap, tap.

There was that sound again. Megavolt had forgotten there had been a sound. The string of lights around the window urged him to investigate. He did so begrudgingly, but not without a soft grumble to express his annoyance. Whoever it was, they had better be looking for some free electroshock therapy. How did they get to the top of the lighthouse anyway?

Megavolt was already sparking by the time he reached the window, throwing the curtain back with so much force that the lights above nearly fell. His mouth was already open to let forth a mini explosion of vulgar content, but the words quickly scattered and were forgotten as soon as he saw who it was.

“ _Quacky_?”

“You know it, sugah! Miss meh?”

The drenched clown giggled at the shocked look on Megavolt’s face, the customary sound of amusement quickly devolving into a hacking cough. Megavolt was so mesmerized by the way the rain was making his entire body shimmer beneath the lights that he jumped at the shock of the obtrusive sounds. It was then that he truly began to study the other man, noting his overly pale and obviously shuddering body. Combine that with the snot he was struggling to keep contained in his nose, and it was obvious why exactly he had been in such a grumpy mood earlier.

Quackerjack always did hate being sick.

“Come play wit me, Megs!” Quackerjack said, mustering as much of his usual enthusiasm as he could.

Despite the effort, Megavolt’s theory was quickly proven right as the sound of the duck’s stuffed sinuses and raw throat echoed in his voice. He sighed heavily at the rather pathetic display. “You’re sick, Quackerjack! _And_ it’s raining. I am NOT getting drenched and letting you catch your death just so you can get some new toys,” Megavolt replied.

The crossed arms and stubborn look on his face clearly said that was not open for debate, but Quackerjack wasn’t exactly one to take a hint.

“M’ nod sick!”

“Yes, you are, and I don’t want you getting sicker, so just—”

The words were rudely stopped in their tracks when an annoyingly familiar face invaded his personal space, grinning that annoying grin and mocking him with that over-stuffed head of his.

“He said he’s not sick, _Dick_.”

Megavolt scowled at the high-pitched voice. “Oh, _reeeal_ mature, Fruit-face,” he grumbled at the inanimate doll.

He didn’t have a chance to respond further before Quackerjack was climbing through the window, bringing a disconcerting amount of the outdoors with him. Megavolt backed nervously away from the growing puddle before scampering off and leaving a rather crestfallen Quackerjack behind.

Quackerjack gave the fidgety rodent a moment to make his motives clearer rather than tracking more of the terrifying fluid through his living space. He took the moment of frustrating isolation to wipe some of the water from his feathers, cringing as he removed his hat to ring out some of the excess moisture while sniffing more mucus into his throat. Quackerjack was barely given the time to look up before he was wrapped in a very warm and very fluffy blanket. Megavolt’s favorite blanket to be precise. The fact that he would sacrifice the comforter on such a cold night for the literal task of comforting his friend made Quackerjack feel far warmer than he already did. For a moment everything was sparkles and love-stained light as the sight of Megavolt standing there, backlit and fussing over him, held him captive. It was obvious by the way his mouth was moving that he was saying something, but all Quackerjack could manage in that moment was to watch those lips dance and whiskers twitch from the action.

“Wha?” Quackerjack slurred distantly.

“I _said_ you need to lie down! You’re burning up, Quacky!” Megavolt said as he ran his fingers through the feathers on Quackerjack’s forehead with only a light wince to show how the moist plumage hurt him.

“M’ not sick, damnit!”

Quackerjack immediately paled, his plumage turning an unnatural, sickly hue as his body mocked him in that moment. Try though it might, his mouth could not repress the determination of his stomach to torment him. He produced little more than a stifled sound of discomfort before rushing from the room and trailing the now damp blanket behind him.

It took a moment for Megavolt’s brain to catch up, as it often did, but the second that telltale sound of vomiting came from the small bathroom down the hall, he was quickly up to speed on what was happening. Megavolt sighed heavily at the retching, slipping into the bathroom behind his friend. He bent over slightly so he could rub the jester’s heaving back gently. “So, ready to admit it yet?”  

Quackerjack grumbled miserably as he swatted at the hand currently attempting to offer comfort. “Dis doesn mean andythingh,”he insisted, still trying to convince himself more than Megavolt that he wasn’t sick. “I’m jus doingh this for fudn.”

“Riiight. Well, when you’re done having _fun_ I’ll be in the living room.”

Really, Megavolt hated to leave him when he was so miserable, but he also knew how stubborn his other half could be, and he wasn’t going to stand in the now unpleasantly scented bathroom while Quackerjack tried to convince him that it meant nothing. Experience told him that if left alone long enough to wallow in his own gloom, he would seek out Megavolt’s company eventually.

Megavolt stretched out on the couch, kicking his boots off and fidgeting his fingers against the rough fabric. He supposed it was past time to steal a new sofa, but this one had so many memories attached to it he was afraid to let it go. There weren’t many things in his life that recalled any sort of past occurrence, so he was hesitant to abandon anything that reminded him of so many fond memories of his beloved partner.  It hadn’t even been that long since the mallard had become a partner to him in more ways than one, but memory in the short term was often even harder for him to deal with. Still, those moments remained tied to that piece of furniture as if they had been weaved into the worn fibers, and it made Megavolt smile at the various forms of playtime that had taken place there.

The grin on his face morphed into a roll of his eyes when more retching filtered from his bathroom. Quackerjack was nothing if not stubborn, and being sick was definitely one of his least favorite things to do.

“What? Don’t look at me like that. HE’S the one being all bitchy. He knows where to find me when he’s willing to admit it,” Megavolt muttered in reply to the unasked question from the light beside him.  “Don’t get your filaments in a twist.”

The toilet flushed, the sink ran, and before Megavolt knew it he could hear the soft creaking of the floorboards as Quackerjack slowly returned. He was wrapped tightly in the oversized blanket, bundled up as though trying to hide completely in its comforting warmth. His hat was clenched in trembling fingers, which might have meant nothing to most people, but to Megavolt it was an obvious sign that he wasn’t in a normal state of mind.

“Megsy,” the miserable jester whined with a sniffle, “I’m _siiiiick_.”

Megavolt couldn’t keep the small smirk off his face at the adorable condition his friend was in. It just wasn’t very often that he saw Quackerjack needing comfort in quite such a way. “Oooh, you don’t say,” he replied sarcastically.

Quackerjack nodded as though oblivious to the fact that the other man wasn’t being serious. He frowned, sniffing his dripping snot back into his nose and groaning unhappily at the way it made his abused throat hurt even more. He sighed dramatically, making his way over to the worn couch and dropping himself into the cushions face down so he could lay his head in Megavolt’s lap.

Megavolt tried not to cringe at the snot that was being smeared on his legs, but was only slightly successful. At least the thick blanket was enough to keep any hint of moisture off of his body. That slight comfort made him happy for sure, but the sight of the softly shivering mallard currently snuggled against him was somewhat heartbreaking. He stroked at the disheveled feathers on Quackerjack’s head, running his fingers gently through the sweat-slicked plumage. No matter how many times he saw the other man without his hat he would never get used to the sight. It was rare that the jester ever removed the beloved item. In fact, the only times Megavolt had ever seen it absent in the past was when Quackerjack was forced to wash it or wash his head.

Quackerjack snuggled closer to the other man’s ministrations, already falling prey to his exhaustion. “Soodn as I’m betta, yo owe me soooo mush playtime,” he mumbled nasally.

Megavolt snorted, undeniably amused by his friend’s insistence. “Only if you do everything I say until you’re better,” he said, taking the opportunity to make a deal with the dejected clown.

“Eveythingh?”

“Everything.”

Quackerjack grumbled at the response, displeased pout settling on his face; he just knew Megavolt was going to make him take nasty tasting medicine and rest all the time. He was pretty sure being stationary for more than five minutes was literally detrimental to his health. “Fiiine,” he finally responded, “but dyou gotta wear the nurse’s outfit.”

“I am _not_ wearing your nurse outfit.”

“Awww, why not?”

“Because I still can’t believe you talked me into it the first time!”

“Bu I wasn even really sick that time!”

“Too bad. You used up your… Megsy nurse… privileges. Besides, the oven was laughing at me for _months_ after that.”

“Oh, who cares what Henry thinks. Dude’s got an attidude problem.”

“Stop trying to make me wear dresses!”

“Poo, you’re no fud.”

“And yet you keep knocking on my door at four in the morning wanting to play hide and seek.”

Quackerjack blew a raspberry at him, the action causing a coughing fit. "Fdine, Mr. Boring." He paused for a moment. "Megs?"

“Yes, Quacky?”

“Watch cardoons wid me?”

Megavolt smiled at the request, pulling Quackerjack closer so he could snuggle into the sofa with him. “That I think I can handle.”

 


End file.
